


A Year to Grow On

by godofpancakes (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: Dinerverse [1]
Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: AU, Incest, M/M, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:03:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/godofpancakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki's brief liaison with his brother is discovered, he finds himself exiled. Then he finds himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Year to Grow On

**Author's Note:**

> First in the Diner-verse series.

“I cannot yet forgive you.” Odin towered over Thor. “But I cannot afford to give you the punishment you so richly deserve. I only have one son now.”

“He’s not dead.” Thor tried to meet his father’s eye, but it slid away. “Sending him away makes him no less your son. Even if what you say about his parentage is true.”

“It's true." Odin turned away from him. "I will send you new teachers. You have the potential to be a great king.”

They come to him solemn and taught him the things that he should have been learning all along. Strategy, etiquette, diplomacy and history. The things that father had let him wiggle out of and ignore. The things that he had never had to know because his brother would know them for him.

“I want to rescue him.” He confided to Sif in the quiet of a seemingly endless night. "He doesn't even know who he really is...what he really is."

“He tried to corrupt you.” She reminded him, but her hand lay soft over his, an unusual gesture of reassurance. “He deserves his punishment.”

He didn’t bother asking the Warriors Three. None of them were fond of Loki to begin with and were certainly even less so now.

Walking down the Rainbow Bridge, hammer hanging low in his hand, he met certain defeat with grace.

“Thor.” Heimdell put an arm on his shoulder after their fight ended. “You cannot come this way, not yet.”

He knew the comfort he was meant to take was in the yet. One day Father will forgive him, ease the ceaseless tutoring that’s meant to turn him into someone he doesn’t know how to be, and then he will be King. The King can goes where wants. He knew that.

But what he heard was ‘this way’.

 

)*(

 

Landing had hurt more than he expected. He made no sudden moves, even as an eerie artificial light cast over his face.

Voices came to him and at first their words were garbled nonsense. He reached for the wellspring of magic that had never failed him and found it locked away. He could sense it just out of reach. Whatever Odin had done, it was far more terrible then if he had only stripped him of his power. Fortunately, some magic was innate and the words did eventually resolve into sense.

“Are you all right?” Asked the light.

“I’m in pain.” He told it. “I don’t know how I...”

“We’ll get you to a hospital.”

“Jane! He could be-”

“He doesn’t look dangerous. Anyway, we can’t leave him here to die.”

There were hands on him then, a flood of new smells and the humbling realization that the voice was absolutely right. Right now, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t dangerous. He feigned sleep to forestall their questions, acting groggy when they brought him into a harshly lit building that reeked of sickness. All around him, people were dying. He could feel it pricking at his awareness and his nose twitched irritably as they sat him in a chair.

He took the time to study his rescuers. The old man looked tired and charmingly susceptible to suggestion as he fiddled idly with a button on his coat. The fine boned woman was studying him with rapt predatory attention. The dark haired girl sat two chairs down, one hand shoved in her purse, her hand clenching into a fist under the fabric. Around a weapon perhaps.

“Who are you?” The blond asks with quiet intensity. Jane, reminded himself. The twitchy brunette had called her Jane.

“I don’t know.” He made his voice quaver and it came depressingly easy. Being mortal was tiring.

“Amnesia?” Jane frowned. “Did you come out of whatever that thing was?”

He stared at her blankly until she looked away. Someone down the hall was struggling for breath. A man in a white uniform collected him, bandaged his cuts and stitched the long wicked wound on his arm closed. He used a numbing agent and when the person in white turned their back, he poked with interest at the deadened skin. The tip of his finger went a little numb before a new person in white came in, a crisp looking woman with a writing implement. Pen, his locked away magic whispered to him. Clipboard, the thing she holds in her hand. Doctor to the person as a whole.

“Dr. Berman tells me you can’t remember your name.” She demanded.

“Nothing.” He lied. “I remember nothing.”

There was another person then, this one in blue. Police, he identified himself. Loki widened his eyes, feigned fear and confusion when questions peppered over him. Sadly, once more his acting skills were not much required. The doctor interrupted when he started to shake.

“Let me do my job.” She’d snapped. Loki liked her.

After a few strange tests with a small light that came from the end of her pen and questions he couldn’t even attempt to answer without far more research (the date for instance: he wasn't sure what calender they used or how long he fell, he could calculate if he knew that), they released him into the hands of Jane, who had apparently told a few lies of her own.

"You're my cousin?" He asked, one eyebrow raised in elegant disbelief.

“You're the closest thing I’ve come to hard evidence.” Her eyes shone as they left the hospital. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“He’s just a dude that got hit in the head. Or was drunk or high or something.” The dark haired girl sat next to him in the back. He watched closely how she fastened the strap that went around her torso and lap. Seatbelt. Mimicking her, he had to repress a satisfied smile when it clicked together.

“I can’t help you.” He agreed. “I really don’t know who I am.”

As the words trip lithely over his tongue, he knew them to be truth. He had been torn bodily from everything he had known, separated from his magic and- He cut the thought off viciously at the root. There would be time to think about Thor. This was not that time.

“You look young.” The dark haired girl decided, rifling in her handbag again. “Like a college student. A college student living on Ramen anyway.”

Ramen...his magic provided nothing. Odin has stripped him down only to this instinctual layer. He was blinded.

“Hey, do you like the Killers?”

“Excuse me?” He asked balefully, before she pushed a small white bud into his hand. She already had a matching one jammed into her ear.

Confused, he followed suit, ready to pull it out if it proved to be a trick.

Music. It jangled through him, interesting and utterly new. Nothing like the long dirges or interminable ballads celebrating heroes he didn't respect. Curious, he pressed the bud a little deeper until it sat naturally in his ear. The singer informed him that he had soul, but wasn't a solider.

“Pretty good, right? I mean no one’s really into them anymore, but I still like them.” She sounded nervous, tentative and that Loki could deal with. He smiled at her, the pleased boyish smile that he had stolen from Thor when they were still teenagers.

“I like it.” He assured her.

“Oh.” A small returning smile crossed her face. “Well, maybe you used to like it before too. I’ll play a few things for you, maybe it will jar your memory.”

“That would be kind, thank you.”

“I’m Darcy.” She extended her hand.

He shook it because that’s what the doctor had done when the policemen had made the same gesture.

“You need a name.” She said when the song was over and another began. “John Doe is a little weird.”

“He fell out of the sky.” Jane contributed from the front seat. “What about Icarus?”

“No.” Darcy and the old man vetoed in tangent.

“Why not?”

“He needs something normal.” Darcy decreed. “How’s he supposed to blend in with a name like that?”

“It can be his last name.” Offered Jane. “He’ll need one of those too.”

“Fine.” Darcy rolled her eyes at the back of Jane’s head. Loki suppressed a smile.

“He doesn’t look like a George or Andrew or Joe.” Jane regarded him in the rear-view mirror. “What about Tom?”

“It may all be moot. He could remember at any moment.” The man shifted to look him over.

“I’ve got it!” Darcy snapped her fingers. “You’re a Jack. Doesn’t he totally look like a Jack?”

In the rear-view mirror, Jane reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Over the next few days, Darcy played him everything in the tiny machine she carried with her. There were genres, she explained, then sub-genres. Starving for knowledge, he listened carefully to her and the music, even as he pieced together the rest of the strange new world. He liked how she, Erik and Jane talked and worked together. They were easy with each other, something that could have made him sickeningly jealous if it weren’t for their inclusiveness. Though he knew little of what they were doing, Darcy claimed to know even less and was happy to show him how to use the creaky laptop. He picked it up quickly. The keyboard clicked pleasing under his fingers. The Internet fascinated him, an endless library of knowledge. No one told him not to ask questions, no one inferred that the question was without answer. If anything, Erik seemed to enjoy answering his endless inquiries. Loki got drunk on knowledge, filling his head with music, Wikipedia articles and elementary physics.

Physics was the best part. When he leafed through Jane's old textbooks, the jumble of numbers and letters called out to him like familiar friends. The lessons slid neatly into what he knew of magic, enriching and informing it. The equations came like breathing to him, easing his urge to pick futilely at the impenetrable cage that housed his power.

The police came, asked him more questions and he had to visit another doctor. She drew blood which at first concerned him, until he realized that bereft of magic it held nothing unusual. He was mortal now and the tests returned with nothing amiss. Odin's reach was subatomic.

The only sour moments came when Jane drilled him more ruthlessly than the police until they were both weary.

“Even if I had something to tell you,” He slurred out one night when they were both near collapse and a little drunk. Figuring out what his body could and could not handle now was a work in progress and she'd plied him with a gorgeous red wine. The bottle stood empty between them. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why?” She demanded, face flushed with fury.

“You would not be allowed to keep it.” He had thought this through carefully, reading diligently between the lines during his Internet binges. “If your theories are correct, the government would take it before you had a chance. It would be too powerful. You are better off continuing as you’ve gone. Build a slow case, publish your articles carefully. One day when you have your breakthrough, it will be too well documented for them to simply take.”

“What are you saying?” Most of the anger had been sapped from her. “Do you really know something?”

“I’m saying that you should have a care.” He rubbed his face with hand.

“If...if you did come from somewhere else, not telling me would mean that I can’t help you go back.” She pointed out. “I mean, it didn’t look like your arrival was intentional.”

“That is a risk that must be taken.” He tried to imagine staying here forever, cut off from his family, his magic and his people. To never see his brother again. "I'm here now and that's what I must live with."

The next day, the policeman brought him a social security card with the name Jack Icarus on it.

“It’s temporary.” The man growled, clearly reluctant to part with it. “No one’s come up with a missing person or warrant that matches your description and the doc says your head problems are real enough, but the minute we find out who you really are this gets revoked.”

“Thank you.” He took the card, unsure of where to place it. He stood in the hot blaze of New Mexico’s summer sun.

“So you’re all set.” Darcy came up next to him. “I mean, you can like start over again now.”

“Yes.” He agreed, clutching the small piece of paper. “I can.”

They stared down the road together.

“Wow, this feels like heavy and symbolic.” She jostled him with her elbow. “First thing we have to do is get you some clothes.”

“I don’t have money.” He reminded her.

“That’s ok, that’s what thrift stores and loans are for. Once you’ve got something to wear, we can figure out the job thing.”

“You can’t dress him in thrift shop clothes!” Jane protested when Darcy explained her plans. “How’s he going to get a job looking like a hobo?”

“Oh, how little you know.” Darcy snapped her gum.

Loki liked natural colors, clean lines and elegance. Anything that made his shoulders look broader was also a plus.

Jack Icarus turned out had different tastes. He hadn’t lost his mind quite yet, he was aware that his new identity was still him, but if he was going to do the fresh start correctly, he would have to embrace this new persona.

“Go try on.” Dacy had informed him after shoving an armful of clothing at him. “Jane and I will give you the verdict when you come out.”

“You’re very pushy.” He informed her. She pushed him into the dressing room and pulled the flimsy curtain shut.

Sorting through what she had thrown at him, he pulled on a pair of pants, denim as Darcy and Jane favored. They sat more loosely than leather and hung more flatteringly. He tried on all seven pairs Darcy had chosen and received a thumb’s up on all but the torn up pair.

“You could do punk.” Darcy informed him. “But you’d look like you were trying too hard.”

He liked t-shirts too. They were soft and if he didn’t tuck them in, they did do things for his shoulders. The variety in color and symbol interested him and he choose mostly bright greens, blues and yellow. A worn pile of button downs joined the t-shirts, including a cool lavender that he hesitated over.

“No judging.” Darcy winked at him. “I think men that wear purple are more secure in their masculinity.”

“Challenge hetero-normative society.” Jane agreed with a quick head bob.

They added belts to the pile, a pair of sedate sneakers and black boots with yellow stitching.

“I’m paying.” Darcy announced grandly. “But you owe me.”

“Noted.”

He slept on a futon in the office, the soft whir of computers soothing. When he couldn’t sleep, he got on the Internet and painstakingly typed his inquires into the oracle known as Google. When he found the definition for hetero-normative, his laughter echoed through the empty room.

Early the next day, he walked to the diner down the road.

“Table for one?” An old woman that barely came up to his shoulder held out a sticky menu. She resembled a troll he'd known once, squat and wrinkled.

“I would like to apply for a job.” He smiled, the boyish one again. Standing on dirty tile, dressed in someone else’s clothes and asking for work felt like the farthest from Thor he had ever been. Yet, at the moment, he could feel him at his shoulder encouraging him on. It was folly, of course. Even as he stood here and rebuilt himself, all of Asgard would be working over Thor, turning him against Loki. It was clearly all his fault, he thought bitterly, the golden boy must have been tricked.

“You ever waited tables before?”

It had been considered women and boy’s work to serve their menfolk at banquets. He had been a boy for far longer than he should have.

“Yes, though I wasn’t paid. Family business.” He offered.

“Uh huh” She looked him over. “Well, you don’t get a name tag until you’ve stayed a month. You start on breakfast shifts, if you look like you can handle it, I’ll switch you to dinner. Tips are yours, salary starts at $3.80 an hour. My name’s Alma, but you call me m’am until I say otherwise. That clear?”

“Yes, m’am.” He repressed a laugh. She reminded him of his fencing instructor, who slapped his fingers with the flat of his blade if took a misstep. “Thank you.”

“You can get started now. Get Rich to show you where everything is.”

The weekday breakfast crowd regarded him warily as he bumbled through his first few hours. By the end of the morning, he was exhausted and his hair hung greasily around his face. It felt wonderful.

“You got a job already?” Jane stared at him when he came back, neatly folded apron in one hand.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You aren’t.” The straight line of her mouth softened. “But thanks.”

Within a week, he proudly counted crumpled cash into Darcy’s outstretched hand, repaying his thrift store debt. In a month, he was moved to dinner shift and started eying the empty apartment across the street.

“We should be roomies.” Darcy said immediately when he shared his tentative plans. “It’ll be great.”

She was messy, loud and had no idea that he was hiding nearly everything from her. She also played him new music as soon as she bought it, never got sentimental and was slowly teaching him the difference between so bad it’s good movies and movies that were just plain bad. He particularly liked the Evil Dead series.

“All right.” He agreed.

“And you should enroll in school with me.”

“Why?” He snapped. “Must I be a part of every aspect of your life?”

“Come on!” Her eyes rolled and he watched carefully. He still had trouble replicating that expression. “You’re smart. You learned everything super fast and don’t think I don’t see you correcting Jane’s formulas behind her back.”

It was frustrating sometimes not to come out and tell her why, but he assumed a few gentle nudges in the right direction would help.

"It's something to do."

“Yeah, see? We have got to get you a degree.”

In the fall, they leased the dingy two bedroom across from the diner. Jane and Erik helped them move and it was a little surprising how many things he’d already managed to accumulate. In Asgard his rooms were notoriously stark without the slightest suggestion of the personality of the person that lived there. He'd liked it like that. Yet this world had so many tantalizing objects that he couldn't help himself. Shabby paperbacks alone filled two large boxes. Fiction fascinated him particularly and the authors' insights taught him more about human nature. So there were boxes of books, a duffel bag stuffed with clothing and bags of electrical detritus that he tinkered with as a side hobby. Spread out across his bedroom, he found the effect pleasing. So what if it told of his personality? Everyone likely to spend time in his room already knew enough about him not to need such hints.

They decorated the living room in fits and starts with furniture found on sidewalks, thrift store chic and garage sales. Everything smelled like the sage and basil thanks to the bundles of herbs Darcy hung to dry in the kitchen that they rarely wound up using. They took Darcy’s terrible Honda with no air conditioning back and forth to campus. They drove with the windows down so they wouldn’t suffocate and sang along with the radio for entertainment.

He enrolled as an undergraduate and started with a few basic classes. For the first time in his long life, he could learn whatever he wanted. There was no one to steer him to ‘appropriate’ topics or to worry that he lived too much in his head. In Asgard, too much book knowledge was unseemly, show offish. At the University, his professors delighted in having an eager student and sent him away with extra reading. Between that and the Internet, he could already sense new ideas on the horizon. For the first time, he didn't feel constantly hungry.

“I’m going to change my major.” Darcy declared from her usual booth. The diner was mostly empty and she'd spread her books haphazardly over several tables.

“I think after five they cut you off.” He countered, serving her a bowl of dubious pasta. The new short order cook was still working out a few kinks.

“I hate Women’s Studies.” She groused, holding out her empty coffee cup which he diligently refilled. “Everyone is pissed off all the time.”

“What about philosophy?” He sat down across from her. “You have a lot of the prereqs done.”

“This tastes like dead things.” She informed him and took another bite. “I don’t know, maybe I should go back to poli sci.”

“It would help you take over the world faster than philosophy.”

“I could take it over faster if I could graduate.” She sighed, then brightened. “So hey, who was that cute guy I saw you talking too?”

“Who?” He looked at her blankly.

“Dark hair, kind of tall, dresses like a hipster and kept getting into your personal space on the quad?”

“Oh. David.”

“Daviiid.” She trilled back at him. “And what did David want?”

“He needs tutoring in calculus.” He shrugged. “I told him I didn’t really have time between school and work.”

“Jack! He was totally into you and you shut him down?” He stared at her, hands paused in the middle of stealing a sip of her coffee. “What?”

“I didn’t know.”

“That he liked you? He was practically drooling. Is he your type?"

“I’m not-”

“Oh, don’t even.” She kicked him under the table. “You so are.”

“No.” He said firmly. “I’m not.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She kicked him again. “You might as well hang out a sign.”

When he was thirteen, he had looked too long at a handsome guard, who was all too happy to tell the King. The ensuing lecture and punishment from Odin had lasted weeks and the memory still stung, closing up his throat. He still wondered if that’s where it had all started. If that was when he became somehow less than Thor.

Maybe that was why the passion he had for his brother had burned so brightly. To possess Thor would be to prove that they were equal in the filth. Ironic that the few stolen nights they'd shared were the purest of his life. He could still feel the ghost of Thor's lips on his own, cleansing him of all dark thought. When they'd been caught, Odin told him he must be a monster to take the perfection of brotherly love and twist it to such terrible ends.

“Hey, hey...” Darcy got up and squeezed in next to him on his side of the booth, throwing an arm over his shoulders. "Are you remembering something?”

“Maybe.” He swallowed hard,not for the first time wanting to just tell her everything. “Just a feeling. It’s not something I’m supposed to....”

They sat together in silence as he tried to steady himself.

“You know what? I think whoever had you before sucked. You’re probably better off now.”

“You’re right.” He said into her hair that always smelled like chemicals to him, no matter what it said on the shampoo bottle. “I am.”

He went on three dates with David. One to a movie, one to see fireworks and one that took place entirely in the squeaking bed at David’s loft. Afterwards, David told him that he thought he was falling in love. He actually felt the color drain out of his face as he struggled to find a nice way to reject the offered sentiment.

“Turns out there is no nice way to say it.” He mumbled through the ice pack Jane pressed to his nose.

“Men are idiots.” The ice pack swayed a little and he winced.

“I’m a man.” He pointed out.

“And?”

“I’m double majoring in physics and math.”

“You just replied to a man that said he loved you with ‘I’m late for work’.”

“I’m an idiot.” He slumped in his chair.

“Still, I love you on a third date is pretty fast. And slugging you was a terrible reaction.”

When it'd happened, he had almost hit him back. He might not be particularly fast or strong in this form, but he still knew every pressure point on the human body and could’ve easily incapacitated him, maybe paralyzed him. Then he ran quickly through a few simple actions that would result in David's complete and utter ruin. He could reduce this man to abject poverty and a lifetime of pain.

Instead, he waited until David started to cry and apologize, gave him an awkward hug and left.

“At least he didn’t break my nose.” Jack took the ice pack from her shaky grip. “Wouldn't want this ruining my good looks.”

“The typical procedure here is a terrible movie and ice cream.”

“Boring.” He decided. “Let’s try and solve the Goldbach Conjecture again.”

“Excellent.” She paused. “Can we do it with ice cream?”

“Only if there’s mint involved.” He said gravely.

Darcy wandered into the lab hours later and found them lying on the floor on their stomachs, legs in the air, books and papers strewn around them in a rough semicircle. A tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream rolled empty by Jane’s feet, two spoons rattling inside.

“I should tape this and send it into Nerds Gone Wild.” She sat between them, fingers immediately sinking into his increasingly long hair. He made a quietly happy noise when she scratched at his scalp. “What happened to your face?”

“David told me he love me, I responded negatively and then he punched me in the nose.” The fingers in his hair tightened and he squeaked. “Ow, Princess of Pain, I’ve had enough for the night.”

“Did you mace him?” She looked at him fiercely. “I told you to bring mace.”

“He apologized. It’s fine.” He rolled over to look up at her, mostly to get out of range of her talon fingernails. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal.” She tugged him up by his t-shirt (one of his favorites: it was neon green and advertised that ‘A day without fusion is like a day without sunshine!'

“Really, I handled it.” He attempted to extricate himself from her grasp.

“I’m going to kill him.” She released her death grip on his shirt, nearly banging his head off the floor.

“Jane.” He pleaded.

“Darcy, don’t get arrested.” Jane interceded. “Get even.”

“I’m fine. Please don’t do anything.”

Someone filled David’s car with hardening foam during Calculus, the only class that Jack shared with him. Watching him struggle to open the driver's door made him laugh hard enough that the cut in his nose reopened and he bled all over the Honda.

“Don’t let people shove you around.” Darcy told him before cranking ‘Highway to Hell’ all the way up on the car stereo.

He had spent most of his life proving he was strong enough. Professionals had been paid to beat him up until he learned to fight back effectively. Sif had done worse to his nose in a practice section when they were both too young to see over their instructor’s table. No one defended him because that wasn’t what you did.

Except...he stopped laughing, turning the memory over. He’d been scrawny still, fourteen maybe. The lesson had gone on longer than usual and the heat unbearable. Sweat had stung at his eyes and everything blurred. The instructor had gone in for another hit, furiously yelling. Another body had come between him and the blow that would doubtless have laid him low.

“Walk, Loki.” Thor had said firmly. “We’re leaving.”

He had found it in him to walk out of the arena, but stumbled when they reached the exit.

“I’m so tired.” He’d mumbled. Strong arms had lifted him up and carried him before he blacked out. There had been no repercussions and the instructor left quietly that night, replaced by the fencing master Loki remembered more fondly.

Thor had always been as good to him as he could, he realized. He pressed a hand to his chest wondering at the sudden ache. Then Darcy started wailing off key and he had to drown her out with his own voice lest his eardrums burst.

Over winter break, they pried Jane from her research and took the RV on a frightening drive to Las Vegas. They couldn’t afford to do anything, except sleep in the RV and spend the day wandering dazzled between hotels. The grandeur of the buildings reminded him a little of Asgard though the noise was a different sort. That night they pooled their resources for one of the less expensive buffets and ate until they were ready to explode, tucking an enormous amount of food into Darcy’s black hole of a purse for later.

They nibbled on the stolen dinner rolls the next day and pushed on to the Grand Canyon. The enormous hole in the ground swallowed every thought in his busy brain.

“We're sleeping here tonight." Jane decided for them.

They couldn’t build a fire without risking it spreading to the dried brush. Instead they huddled together under a blanket that smelled suspiciously of horse and stared up at the stars.

“Do you still think about it?” Darcy asked, curling into his left side. “Where you came from?”

“I wonder sometimes, but it’s been a long time. If they wanted to find me, they would’ve by now. I think..” He imagined mostly that they had forgotten about him, except for the occasional stray curse. His absence would make many things easier.

“Look!” Jane sprawled across their laps pointing upwards at a trailing rain of sparks. “Falling star.”

“Make a wish.” Darcy elbowed him in the ribs.

“It’s just a meteorite.” He complained, but shut his eyes and did what he was told.

They drove back through California, eating gas station food and taking shifty freezing baths in the ocean with their clothes on. Darcy insisted they stop at Alcatraz and he took endless pictures of her behind bars while Jane listened diligently to the audio tour and told them the best parts.

“This one’s good. The Anglin brothers and this other guy, they put together a raft out of raincoats and escaped out of a tunnel they dug. There’s no evidence that they made it though.” She rattled off. “Probably drowned.”

When they left, he looked over the watery expanse that separated so many men from their freedom with a faint smile. When the RV rumbled back into town, the pleasure he felt at returning to the apartment took him off guard. His hands drifted over their familar belongings.

"It's good to be back home." Darcy flopped in the green courtesy armchair that they kept patching with duct tape.

"Yes." He grinned at her. "It is."

Late the next day, he was singing along with The Kinks when Darcy attacked. She wrapped arms around his chest from behind, jostling the soldering iron in his hand.

"Hey, come with me to get my ears re-pierced?"

"This is delicate work." He pointed out calmly, inspecting the circuit board for any harm. "I almost lost a finger thanks to you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on." She pressed her cheek to his staring down the jumble of metal on the table. "I don't want to go alone. I need to distract me or I'll wuss out again."

Unfortunately, she'd discovered that being wanted was like a drug for him. The idea of someone desiring his presence for the simple fact of who he was rather than what he could do was ridiculously powerful. Like all good friends, she used that mercilessly to her advantage.

"I hate you and everything you stand for." He informed her, even as he stood and hunted around for his boots.

The tattoo parlor she'd chosen to get a piercing reeked of bleach and precision. Clearly, she'd done her research. A bald woman covered in bold nature paintings took care of Darcy's ears in seconds.

"What about you?" The tattooed woman asked. "You getting anything done today?"

"Oh, you should totally get one of these!" Darcy held up a disconcertingly large nose ring.

"I'm not getting metal shoved into my face."

He drifted over to the case, frowning at most of the gaudy baubles on display. At the very end shoved in the back were six plain loops of silver that ended in wicked horn-like spikes that gleamed dangerously under the florescent lights. He wanted them so badly his mouth went dry. Three went into the cartilage of each ear despite the warnings of pain. It hurt deliciously and in the morning when he caught his reflection in the mirror, he had to stop and stare.

Long black hair drawn back in a tight ponytail, gleaming metal piercings and a peeling sunburn nose met his searching eyes. Regular, if terrible, meals from the diner coupled with a normal mortal metabolism had filled out his cheeks. The muscles that had refused to form before had finally developed in his arms thanks the heavy trays he carried for hours every day.

"I'm happy." He said out loud, the words echoing oddly in the cramped bathroom. His caged magic surged giddily in his chest. Unbidden, thoughts of Thor flooded him. Thor's easy happiness had always filled him with acidic envy. Even when they had been together, he couldn't discover the trick to it. Now he knew what caused it: the knowledge that you were exactly where you belonged. He still missed Thor with a palpable ache and a part of him knew this moment was sullied by the lack of him. And yet... he was happy. Content.

"Fire!" Darcy shrieked. "Toast disaster! Call 911!"

Luckily the toaster and the brief insight into his feelings were the only causalities.

The new semester started with tougher classes and an extra shift at the diner. He often fell asleep on his books and woke up still in his clothes. He sometimes stayed on campus if he wasn’t working, crashing on generous friends’ floors with chalk-stained fingers twitching in his sleep. Never once was he awake and idle at the same time. It was glorious.

Still, it was nice to resurface after his final exams and find a quieter world. Darcy greeted him with a cupcake, a single candle burning in it.

“Happy Landing Day. Since you don't have a real birthday."

They ate the cupcake on their stoop, passing a cold bottle of beer between them.

)*(

“Waiter!” Someone chirped and the man that had once been a god jumped nimbly skipped over a small child to land at the booth.

“How may I help you?” He asked, drawing out his pen and paper.

“I need a refill on the Coke and my wife’s panini is burnt.”

“My apologies, sir, let me just-”

Everything started to shake, sending plates and cutlery crashing to the floor. When the tremors ended seconds later, the entire diner was in chaos. Jack dashed from table to table, taking Alma's shouted orders and leaping over shattered glasses.

“I’m sorry for the interruption in service, sir, let me just-”

The front doors flew open forcing a hot blast of air into the diner’s refrigerator cool. A giant of a man with the sun at his back clung to the door-frame.

“Loki.” He said hoarsely before falling boneless to the floor.

Loki was at the fallen man's side before anyone else registered his entrance. He cradled the bruised familiar head in his hands.

"Thor." He started to laugh, only half-aware of hot tears on his cheek. "You idiot."

**Author's Note:**

> Don't like commenting on AO3? Hop over to LJ and leave a note: [Feed the Authors](http://dragons-muse.livejournal.com/65613.html?mode=reply#add_comment")

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] A Year To Grow On](https://archiveofourown.org/works/787783) by [godofpancakes (Vera_DragonMuse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/godofpancakes), [PantherX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PantherX/pseuds/PantherX)




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